The rain keeps coming and I think it will wash everything away,
but instead it just leaves everything muddy.
When it dries, little water spots cover my windows,
and turn my once clear view into a splotchy, blotted mess.
You've been away for months,
and what once was is different now.
This new normal of mine isn't normal at all,
and I don't know if I'll ever know it again.
But maybe that's the thing,
maybe it's always changing.
Sometimes we change with it,
sometimes we don't.
It's easy to remember the clear view of youth,
before all the rain and wind and hail and snow came.
Spring is here and winter is gone.
I'll wash the windows and wipe away the grime,
no need to complain about the rain.
The rain will always come and go,
the spots will only stay if you let them.
Normal is the moment and what you make of it.
Neither new nor old,
just here and now.
What I want.
What it can be.
© Erica Day McCarthy, San Antonio, Texas - 2 May 2019
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